


Quarter Past Midnight

by god_of_wine



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, and ryan just wants to experience shane, but mostly just awkwardness, general obliviousness, inspired by that time ryan said in a tweet that shane was irreplaceable, lots of shy sidestepping, sort of a slow burn, they really are the biggest dorks, wherein shane experiences a bergara thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_of_wine/pseuds/god_of_wine
Summary: Shane frowned, looking over at Ryan in the flashing streetlights. "Uh, that's really sweet and all, but I'm not going to crash your family's Thanksgiving, man.""It's not 'crashing' if you're invited."





	Quarter Past Midnight

"It's a quarter past midnight  
And the secrets are flowing  
Our lips are getting looser  
I don't know what I'm saying  
We never knew what we had  
I never know what I've had."  
\- _Quarter Past Midnight, _Bastille.

"Do you miss Chicago?"

They'd been driving in silence for a while, Shane drowsy in the passenger seat, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. The question felt like it came out of nowhere, but Shane wasn't shocked by it. It was coming up on Thanksgiving, and this was the first year since he had moved down to California that he wouldn't be going home. "Sure," Shane's response was deliberately offhanded and lighthearted - he didn't really want to discuss his family at the moment, which he knew is exactly what Ryan was driving at. "At least it would feel like fall in Chicago," A brief pause, and, with a bit of a laugh, "At least it would _look_ like fall in Chicago."

Ryan sighed, a long, drawn out sound of sheer exasperation. "Don't start with your fucking Midwest weather bullshit."

"It's not 'Midwest weather bullshit', _Ryan_ -"

"Shut up, Shane. That's not what I meant and you _know_ it."

Shane made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, but he sat up a little straighter, watching the road ahead of them, his hands folding and unfolding absently in his lap. Ryan let the quiet hang, not pushing the issue, content to wait until he was ready. Truthfully, Shane had been trying to put off thinking about the implications of the first 'family holiday' that he'd be spending away from home. He was close with his parents and his brother, adored and they're part of who he is and, he hoped, always would be. They had always grounded him through his minor, questionable claim to 'celebrity' status at Buzzfeed, and part of him felt lost, as if he were floating loose without being able to go and see them. He had to remind himself that one Thanksgiving away changed nothing about any of that. "Yeah," he said finally, voice soft, barely audible over the road noise. "I miss it. Love being out here, but it's... not the same, you know?"

Ryan glanced over at him, his face a study in understanding sympathy. For all the man played up the brash, bro-culture persona, he was an empathetic, soft-hearted guy, and Shane really appreciated that about him. Good people - truly good people - were rare, and Ryan Bergara was certainly one of them. "I get it, man. It's rough being away from family and shit." He paused, as if trying to build himself up to saying something, silently testing the words. His lips parted and then closed again several times before he finally spoke. "I know you have some work you gotta get through, but uh... listen, I'd - well, my parents and I - we'd be really happy to have you 'round for Thanksgiving. I'd hate to think of you moping around your apartment all by yourself like some big wilted Sasquatch."

Shane frowned, looking over at Ryan in the flashing streetlights. "Uh, that's really sweet and all, but I'm not going to crash your family's Thanksgiving, man."

"It's not 'crashing' if you're _invited_."

"Ryan -"

"Really. Jake's got some big Other Plans and he's not going to be there, and honestly, I could use a buffer between me and my parents. You'd be doing me a huge favour if you came, they could just stare up at your big, dumb face instead."

Shane bit the inside of his lip, grasping for any reason to decline, but nothing came to mind. Ryan knew he had no other plans, and while he _did_ have too much work to do to justify being able to fly back to Chicago for the long weekend, it's not nearly enough to justify not being able to come over for dinner. There's no polite way to tell Ryan that spending a family holiday sitting next to him, across from his parents, felt a little too much like 'bring the boyfriend home for the parent's approval' to him - especially when they're not dating. At all. Not even close. Ryan doesn't even _look_ at him like that and - no, nope, no. He can't go down that road. Won't go down that road. "Uh, yeah I... yeah, thanks, that would be nice." He breathed out heavily through his nose, clapping Ryan on the shoulder. "Can I bring anything?"

Ryan's wide grin lit up the car, pleased with sense of victory that always accompanied the rare times he could make Shane capitulate. "Just yourself, big guy. Just yourself."

.x.

Shane, despite being told that just 'bringing himself' was enough, showed up at the Bergara's house with two bottles of wine (a white and a red - he wasn't a wine guy, and he'd psyched himself out in the liquor store about which would be more appropriate) and two precariously balanced pies (pumpkin and blueberry - he liked neither, but they seemed like safe bets, and showing up with just alcohol seemed like asking for trouble). He had barely gotten any work done during the day, too nervous at the prospect of spending the evening here; he'd been a veritable ball of nervous energy, pacing and second-guessing his clothing choices (he'd finally settled on dark chinos and a white button down, which seemed safe enough, maybe). He rang the doorbell, juggling his burdens, and was greeted by the furious barks of Ryan's parent's dachshunds. The door swung open, and he was enveloped by the bright cheerfulness of Ryan's mother, who pulled him into a hug, the dogs nosing at his feet expectantly.

"So nice to see you again, Shane," her words wrapped him up with all the motherly warmth he'd been missing from today, and Shane couldn't help but awkwardly shift the wine and pies to return her hug with feeling. Whatever his reservations about being here, in that moment, Shane was just intensely grateful. "And So nice to have you here."

"Yeah, really, thanks for having me, Mrs. Bergara -"

"It's still just Linda, Shane, as always. We're all family here -"

"I brought this stuff, Ryan didn't really say what you might like -"

"You're so sweet, let me take those -"

They laughed, trying to find an easy way to transfer the bottles and boxes from Shane's big hands to her much smaller ones without having them wind up on the floor, and Shane couldn't stop smiling. He felt a little silly for having wasted so much of the day so anxious about tonight, barely even able to remember why - until Ryan bounded down the stairs with exuberance and something that might have been relief, swooping in to assist his mother. 

As Linda departed with the wine bottles, assuring Shane that they were both lovely vintages and she'd go and open one right now for them, Ryan lingered behind, waiting for Shane to pull his boots off. When he straightened again, Ryan made an awkward movement that was almost a a hug, but that jerkily transitioned into just clapping Shane's arm at the last second. "Thought you weren't gonna show."

"Well, funny thing, turns out Uber is both busy and understaffed on holidays, would you believe it?" Shane raked his hand back through his hair as he followed Ryan into the living room, sitting down on the couch as he was bid. "I wouldn't just not come, Ry, you know that."

"You could've been abducted by -"

Shane cut in immediately, holding up his hands and starting to rise. "_No_. Ryan, if the next word out of your mouth is 'aliens', then I swear to God, I'm leaving."

The younger man laughed, making placating gestures with his free hand. "Alright, okay. I'm just really glad you came, man." As Linda came into the room with glasses of wine and shot her son a patient, put-upon look, Ryan seemed to remember he was still holding the pies, and started off towards the kitchen, reiterating over his shoulder firmly, "Like, really glad."

Shane blinked at him stupidly before remembering to roll his eyes and laugh, waving him off. Just because he wanted to read more into Ryan's words doesn't mean that there was anything more there _to_ read; Jake wasn't here, and Ryan himself had said that he'd be grateful to have a buffer between him and his parents. That was it. As he accepted the glass of wine from Ryan's mother with a smile and a word of thanks, he reminded himself that this wasn't the time for indulging in half-baked fantasies.

.x.

The evening progressed in much the same way, with Ryan's parents being so gracious, affectionate and welcoming that Shane could almost believe, here and there, that he was, as Linda had put it, a part of the family. A plethora of wine during dinner loosened him up, and he and Ryan bantered back and forth playfully, Shane eagerly prodding his friend's parents for dirt on him, and gleefully running with whatever he could get. Honestly, he would have been happy just to hear the stories, even without the promise of being able to make Ryan squirm, but that was a delicious little cherry plopped right on top of the fuck-you-and-all-your-little-ghosts-too sundae.

After dinner, he and Ryan had switched over to beer, eventually spilling outside, tugging on their jean jackets and sitting on the hood of Ryan's father's car. They joked about how _high school_ it all felt, sitting and drinking out in the driveway like this, but it felt comfortable, and natural. "When I was sixteen, I 'borrowed' my brother's car for a date, and we were sitting and drinking kind of like this -" Had he imagined the way Ryan's eyes flickered over at him just then? "- and I was telling a story and might have gotten a little too, y'know, _wild_ with my gestures, and I slammed my bottle right into the windshield and cracked it. Scott damn near killed me, but he had to get in line behind my parents. They were _furious_, though my mother was a little lost in the sauce, because she was more upset that it had been a school night." Shane laughed, reminiscing, leaning back on his elbow to look up, sipping his beer. "I was so convinced I wasn't going to live through the night, I actually told my father to cremate me instead of burying my body."

Ryan snorted, "Would cremation actually do anything to you? A demon in the fires of hell and all that?"

"Listen, when I'm go, I wanna go up in smoke, baby. I want a real light show. People can bring marshmallows. Toast those suckers up."

"That's disgusting. But probably for the best, not sure they'd be able to find a coffin big enough to fit your ridiculously disproportionate body."

"Whereas you could just go shopping in the children's section of the coffin depo, no issue."

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he didn't laugh, tapering off into thoughtful silence. For a few minutes they sit quietly, comfortable in each other's company even without words, until Ryan broke the spell, glancing over at Shane, his face both earnest and a little distressed. "Listen, I... uh, I really hope you don't get your light show for a long time, Shane." Was that actual colour in Ryan's face, or just a trick of the light? "You're pretty irreplaceable, big guy."

There was something about the way that Ryan said it that reminded Shane forcibly of the tone that he had used when saying he was really glad that Shane come, and Shane hoped that the confusion he felt hadn't translated to his face. The earlier tone he had explained away to himself, but this time it was harder - they joked about killing each other and about dying on shoots all the time, after all, and Ryan had never really expressed any serious emotion about it. He bought himself a moment by bringing his bottle up, finishing the lukewarm, semi-bitter dregs of it. "One of a kind, baby." He grinned, lapsing into the tried and true safety of humour, unsure what else to do. He thought something changed in Ryan's face, but he couldn't be sure - God, he just couldn't stop overthinking everything tonight, could he? "Think it might rain," he mused, steering away from the topic entirely. "I should probably get going, will be a million times harder to get a car if it starts to pour."

"What? No -" Ryan sat up a little straighter, shaking his head. "No, man, you should stay the night. You can take Jake's old room." 

"It's really not that big a deal -"

"Stay, c'mon. You're going to pay out the nose to get home and it's not worth it. You can just head home tomorrow - besides, my mother always comments about how thin you are, she's been chomping at the bit for any excuse to feed you."

Shane's eyebrows shot up, indignant. "So because I'm not built like a bulldog who ate a cannonball -"

"Shut up and just stay, bro."

Shane didn't know why he was trying to fight this, he didn't actually _want_ to go. His knee-jerk reaction was to take any excuse to stay around Ryan, to soak up his infuriating, good-natured presence, but there was something inherently awkward about tonight that made him hesitate. The decision was taken away from him, however, as Linda appeared at the front door. "Shane, I made up Jake's old room for you."

Shane bit back a frustrated sigh, instead fixing on a smile, raising a hand in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Linda, you're a peach."

Ryan had that little, triumphant look again, and Shane indulged in a few seconds of giving actual thought to strangling him.

.x.

Jake's old room was like a weird time capsule, and Shane could only imagine that Ryan's looked much the same. There were old posters on the wall, a myriad of photographs, some ribbons and trophies scattered here and there, a collection of old baseball caps - and it felt hotter than hell in here, after being outside. Heading over to the window, Shane tried to open it, only to find it refusing to budge an inch. Heaving an irritated sigh, he passed his palms over his eyes, feeling too tired and, frankly, maybe a little too drunk to have the patience for this right now. 

"Shane?" Ryan's voice made him turn, seeing the shorter man's shadow against the band of light from the partially closed over door, "Brought you a toothbrush."

Shane went to the door, pulling it open the rest of the way. "You could've just come in, not like I'd be hanging around your bro's room butt naked or anything."

This time it definitely wasn't the light, Ryan's cheeks actually turned _pink_, and Shane had no earthly idea how to process that information. Clearly Ryan was a lot drunker than he was. "I, uh - Jesus Christ, Shane?" He spluttered, thrusting the toothbrush at him, turning on his heel. 

Maybe it was a self-serving need to confirm to himself that Ryan was, in fact, _blushing_, but Shane reached out and caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Is there a trick to opening the window in here? It's hot enough that I might have to re-think my decision not to try out a new nudist lifestyle, here." Okay, so that was deliberate. And maybe Shane was drunker than _he_ thought. Sue him.

Ryan's eyes went a little wide, and he made a strangled, embarrassed sound, ducking around Shane and muttering something about needing to wrench it right and then pull up, and it was Shane's turn to smile victoriously. Ryan _was_ blushing - and defensively snappy about it, apparently. "Come here and see for yourself, you fucking beanpole -" 

"Alright, okay, man," Shane laughed under his breath, tossing the toothbrush onto the bed and crowding in beside Ryan, pulling and pushing as directed, a wave of cool air hitting them as the frame jerked upon. They stood there for a moment, letting the air wash over them, before Shane became very aware of the backs of Ryan's fingers against his thigh, just innocently brushing there, apparently going entirely unnoticed by Ryan himself. 'Entirely unnoticed' was about the exact opposite to the amount of attention that Shane had trained on that faint touch, and that was a dangerous game to be playing right now. Clearly his throat roughly, he stepped away. "Night, Ryan."

Ryan looked over at him with something indescribable about his features - it wasn't surprise, really, and it wasn't hurt, but some odd child of them both, perhaps, and that was puzzling. "Night, Shane." He echoed, turning and heading for the door, fingers curling and uncurling.

Shane watched them, fixated, and before he could stop himself: "Ryan?"

He turned in the doorway, looking back at the taller man with something like wary expectation. Probably expecting another joke at his expense. Shane's mouth felt a little dry, and his palm smoothed over the place on his thigh where he could still feel the ghost of the backs of Ryan's fingers, a touch the other didn't even know had been stolen. "I, uh..." He didn't even know what he wanted to say, nothing that was even vaguely appropriate to say to your very platonic best friend and coworker came to mind. Panicking, he just said the first safe thing that came to mind, almost wincing at just how stupid it sounded. "I hope you don't die soon, either."

Whatever that look had been in Ryan's face, it was replaced with a flash of teeth and a soft laugh. "Thanks, big guy. See you tomorrow."

When he left, Shane fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of that touch, feeling incredibly pathetic that even in his thirties, something as innocent as that could still set his pulse racing. Somehow, he didn't think he was going to be sleeping very well, tonight. 


End file.
